


I'd Follow You Anywhere

by HomeForImaginaryFriends



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomeForImaginaryFriends/pseuds/HomeForImaginaryFriends
Summary: Being tied naked to a lamp post is no big deal, not for Kuroo anyways.  Or at least it wouldn't be, if there weren't hungry zombies walking around and he's being used as bait by some crazy people!





	I'd Follow You Anywhere

Kuroo is naked and tied to a street lamp.  Well, he’s   _mostly_ naked, apparently his oh-so-kind, psychotic kidnappers decided that taking his grimy, dirty underwear was just one step too far in their plan to use him as bait.  Honestly if that had happened a decade ago, Kuroo wouldn’t even say this was the worst thing that had happened to him.  He was in the middle of Tokyo so someone would eventually cut him down and the worst-case-scenario would be to have his mostly-naked body posted all over the internet and maybe he’d be taken in for public indecency.

 

Except it’s not a decade prior, it’s now and now means the fucking apocalypse is happening.  Has happened.  The world has already gone to shit and Kuroo had been taken in by some post-apocalyptic bullshit gang who decided to string him up to a light post in the middle of a zombie-infested Tokyo to try and capture the rest of his people.

 

It was that last thought that had him struggling at his restraints until he was out of breath and hurting from where the rope had dug into his exposed skin.  He needs to get out, and only partly because it’s only a matter of time before a hoard of the undead come ambling down towards him and he can’t even defend himself.  Mostly he needs to get out because if his people do see him, despite the fact that he sacrificed himself- let himself be run down and captured so they’d have time to escape, they would walk right into the trap to try and rescue him and then they’d all be fucked.

 

Kuroo pulled and pushed against the ropes before his whole body froze and his head cocked to the side.  Subconsciously he wass attuned to every spare noise because the street had been dead silent since he was strung up to the light post.  He knew that the psychotic assholes are somewhere in the surrounding buildings, waiting and watching but he wondered what would happen if zombies got to him before someone living did.

 

Kuroo turned his head, his heart pounding wildly in his ears, a whimper caught in his throat.

 

Something down the street, around the corner and out of sight was making noise.  A soft _thud_ , followed by a long _draaaag_ and Kuroo was pulling at the restraints, trying not to make any noise even though he wanted to sob.

 

_Thud. Draaag._

 

The reason Kuroo refers to them as zombies, besides the fact that they are zombies, is because it dehumanizes them and lets him detach from the situation.  Zombies brought up memories of video games and bad B-rated horror movies with even worse subtitles.  Zombies were dumb and slow and easily shot down with one clean shot through the head.

 

_Thud. Draaag._

 

Kuroo had never shot a gun in his life.  His aim was terrible and his hands trembled so badly that he always handed over a gun to someone more capable.  Guns were practically useless though, they were so loud and the one thing that was sure to draw the undead was a loud noise.  Not to mention it wasn’t exactly easy to come across guns either, let alone find or keep ammunition.  Also guns backfire and discharge incorrectly if they aren’t cared for properly, which is never anything they show in tv shows.  Guns are useless.

 

_Thud. Draaag._

 

Where there was one zombie, there were more.  They congregate together, just like most alive humans do.  Before everything went radio silent there were a lot of studies conducted about that phenomenon.  Some said it was just natural, others arguing it was a basic human trait and somewhere inside the undead, there was the same building blocks of humanity that existed in alive people.

 

_Thud.  Draaag._

 

Kuroo stopped caring about who the zombies were before they became zombies a long time ago.  Letting yourself believe that zombies could one day be rehabilitated was a one way trip to crazy down, and Kuroo had enough to be crazy about.  Like the fact that it wasn’t just zombies hunting people, but other people too.  Those who had shed all sense of morals and humanity and hunted people down.

 

_Thud. Draaag._

 

Like the assholes who had cornered Kuroo’s group.  They had stripped Kuroo of all his supplies, his clothes, even his socks.  They had jeered and roughed him up, spat on him, treated him lesser and Kuroo hated those people more than the zombies.  Zombies, to Kuroo, completely lacked all humanity.  Their only thought was to feed.  The jackwads who tied Kuroo to the light post, they had no such excuse, they knew what they were doing was wrong but they just didn’t care.

 

_Thud. Draaag._

 

Kuroo eyes were wide, he knows he hasn’t blinked in a while because they are burning and hurt but he stares as the creature- the zombie, the undead- whatever the fuck you want to call it, stumbled around the corner of the street.  His- her- it’s leg ends in a stump where it’s foot should be, the dull thud is bone hitting concrete, the drag because the leg is broken somewhere near the knee.

 

Kuroo was hyperventilating, his lungs hurt and he was trying not to make any noise but he couldn’t stop the complete and utter panic crawling up his throat because it was one thing to see a zombie down the street and know you have time to run, to run as fast and as far as you can because where there’s one-

 

There’s two.  The second is crawling, fucking crawling because its legs are gone.

 

Zombies are terrifying, a mixture of human and horror that makes something twist in the gut at the complete wrongness of it all.  Kuroo had always hightailed it out of there whenever he spotted one, but he was tied to a fucking lamp post and he couldn’t move or breathe properly and-

 

Three.  Three zombies.  They hadn’t noticed him yet, eyes probably rotted out but it was only a matter of time.  Kuroo wanted to scream and fight and tear his restraints away but he couldn’t make any noise.  Some stupid part of him still believed he could escape this, still find his way out if he just stopped and thought and used his brain because he wass so fucking clever but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t think, and his brain felt as useless as a zombie brain.

 

Something crashed  around the corner and the zombies were suddenly gone, crawling and dragging dead broken limbs back where they came from to chase after the noise and Kuroo’s hung his head and felt, for the first time, the wetness on his own face.

 

Tears and snot and spit mix.  Kuroo felt his chest stutter as he tried to regulate his breathing, tried to gain some semblance of control but then something was sliding past his legs, the little gray-blue canister made a soft whistle sound before smoke was pouring out of it.

 

Kuroo fought harder against the restraints, eyes glancing fearfully at the corner where they zombies had disappeared. Someone had dropped a smoke bomb near him and it had made enough noise to echo down the silent street and the zombies couldn’t have gotten that far.  Smoke was filling up his vision, clogging up his throat and nose, tightening his lungs, but he refused to cough.  Refused to make any more noise as he struggled-

 

Something touched his hands and Kuroo had to fight back a sob, but before he could work himself up into a good panic, before he could think too much of zombies eating his fingers first and working their way to the rest of him, his hands are free.  Then his torso and Kuroo twisted around, looked down where a huddled black figure is quickly sawing away at the ropes tying his legs to the lamp post.

 

Kuroo heard shouts, from his captures, he’d know those voices anywhere.  There was a loud ear piercing screech that made Kuroo’s blood run cold as he stumbled out of the ropes as the knife cuts him free.  A hand around his wrist is pulling, tugging him and Kuroo was stumbling around as the screeching-yell is nearly upon them.

 

Every inch of Kuroo hurts, from the beating he had been given him to the constant struggle against the ropes to running on concrete with bare feet, but his fear keeps his legs pumping.  The dark figure, a man dressed all in black, is tugging him this way and that way, peering around corners quickly before leading him through a maze of streets and back alleys.

 

Sometimes when Kuroo’s adrenaline runs high and for too long, when there’s not enough food in his stomach and too many endorphins running through his system and lack of sleep plays a key factor in that too, when all those things happen something switches in his brain.  He goes on autopilot, survival mode- whatever the term is.  Things seem to happen in a cutscene sort of way.

 

Running down alleys.

 

Broken glass cutting his foot.

 

A strong, firm grip on his wrist.

 

Heart pounding, lungs throbbing.

 

A sharp turn to the left.

 

Crouching low and slipping into a dark, dark space through a basement window quickly boarded up behind him.

 

A finger against his lips, hand back on his wrist and pulling him down, low.

 

Sitting in pitch blackness for hours, muscles screaming, stomach pitching painfully, sweat drying on his skin, cold shivers running up his back.

 

Then everything snaps back into focus as a soft light comes on.  A small candle that barely illuminates the space around it.  A heavy backpack being placed next to the light, a wide figure searching through the contents, small noises that feel like gunshots in the enclosed space.

 

“Thank you,” Kuroo says, his voice low and raspy and he’s not even ashamed that there are tears on his face again.  He doesn’t know this person, doesn’t know why he risked his life to save him.  He obviously knew that Kuroo had been bait in a trap, that there were zombies close by, but he still saved him.  For what purpose?  Do nice, decent people still exist in this shit stain of a world?  Kuroo didn’t know any of those answers, but his mother's voice is telling him to be polite, always thank someone for doing something for you.  She probably never imagined her son being saved in some nightmare postapocalyptic world by a figure dressed in black from zombies and psychotic human-hunters, but that’s all semantics.

 

“Your welcome.”  Kuroo is shocked by the voice, a deep trembling bass and the ring of amusement in the tone.  The ski mask is pulled off, and Kuroo squints into the low lighting, thankful that the man is leaning into it, trying to see the contents of his backpack.  He’s amazingly plain, was Kuroo’s first thought.  Shorter than Kuroo with wide shoulders, black short hair that was sticking up every which way because of the ski mask,  brown eyes, and dark skin.  His features are arranged nicely but plainly, Kuroo imagines he’d be a businessman if the world hadn’t gone to shit.  Just another Japanese man in a suit in the streets of Tokyo.  Instead of this post apocalyptic hero, and Kuroo thinks he’s a hero now, dressed in a black threadbare sweater with a black coat over, dirty, stained dark jeans tucked into black boots.

 

“I’m sorry?”  Kuroo asked, keeping his voice low when the man turned brown eyes onto him, obviously having just asked him a question.

 

“Sawamura Daichi.”  Sawamura said, a smile breaking out onto his face like he wasn’t at all offended that Kuroo, the stupid half-naked man he’d just rescued, had zoned out on him.

 

“Kuroo Tetsurou.”  Kuroo found himself saying after an awkwardly long pause, realizing the man- Sawamura Daichi, had just said his name.  “Thank you.”  Kuroo said again and wanted to hit himself.

 

“It’s okay, you’re in shock, give yourself a minute.”  Sawamura is holding out something and Kuroo takes it hesitantly.  “It’s gatorade, haven’t been able to find actual water in a while.”  Kuroo wants to cry again as he twists off the top, not even caring a bit if it’s poisoned, and forces himself to take small sips.  His throat and stomach cry out in pain after being denied for so long.

 

“Fuck me,” Kuroo says softly, so softly because it was dark and he was still terrified and stuck with a strange man who rescued him, but was still- well, a stranger.  But the stranger is chuckling then pressing a hand to his mouth, shoulders shaking as he bends over.  Kuroo doesn’t think it was weird for him to be laughing so hard, just thinks about how long Sawamura must have been alone, the only sound keeping him company is the screeching of the undead and the talks of human-hunters.

 

“Hungry?”  Kuroo gives Sawamura a look.

 

“You know, I’m actually quite stuffed from my caviar and- yes, fuck yes I am hungry.”  Kuroo can’t even finish his joke because his stomach is angry at him for denying food even the the 10 second joke.  Plus what if Sawamura takes offense?  He doesn’t have to share his food, he doesn’t have to do anything.  He saved Kuroo’s life, he can take off at any point, good deed of the day done and over with.

 

“It’s not much.”  Sawamura doesn’t get offended or put-off, he just chuckles and hands over a small pouch filled with dried fruit and different nuts.  “Uh- hopefully you aren’t allergic?”

 

“I don’t even care, bury me in them, this is the best thing I’ve tasted.”  Kuroo once again forces himself to go slow, even though his stomach clenches, wanting substinance now.

 

“Better than caviar?”  Sawamura asked, pulling a red box out of the bag and opening it.  Kuroo peers inside and isn’t exactly surprised at the makeshift first aid kit.

 

“Honestly, I bet anything would be better than caviar, sounds disgusting.”  Kuroo groans as his body protests loudly at moving in anyway, but Sawamura’s hands are firm and no-nonsense as he checks over all the cuts and bruises on Kuroo’s mostly exposed skin.  Kuroo is stunned into silence as he eats his little bag of treats and lets Sawamura patch and prod him.

 

“I think you have a cut- here?”  Sawamura is near his face and Kuroo had been trying to studiously ignore it.  Kuroo tries to think back on the punches and kicks and slaps he had received.

 

“Right temple?”  Kuroo remembers a kick there, blacking out for a moment, waking with something sticky and wet on the side of his face.  Kuroo’s hair is nearly shoulder length, too long and mostly knotted.  “Do you have some scissors in your magic bag?”

 

“No, but I have this.”  Sawamura pulls out a knife, long and sharp and Kuroo is flinching back at the close proximity.  Kuroo tries to reason that no one gives up their rations to another person just to kill them.

 

“Have at it.”  Kuroo deadpans, trying to control his rapidly beating heart that spikes in fear every time the knife comes close to him.  Sawamura tries his best to be gentle, Kuroo can tell that much but cutting hair with a knife, no matter how sharp, is not ideal.  There’s pulling and tugging and Kuroo’s got half a headache by the time Sawamura calls it quits.

 

“I cut my own hair but I never had to look at the end results.”  Sawamura’s lips are pressed together.  Kuroo gives him a dead eyed stare as he shoves more dried fruit into his mouth.  Sawamura lasts a whole 15 seconds before he’s bent over, chuckling again, hand pressed tightly against his mouth to muffle the sound.

 

“Rude.”  Kuroo said, but it’s hard to work up any sense of indignity towards the other man.  “How are you even real?”

 

“What’s that suppose to mean?”  Sawamura asked as he cleaned off the now revealed cut on Kuroo’s temple before moving back to his backpack.

 

“You risked your life for a stranger, you knew it was a trap- you probably made the noise that drove the zombies away.”  Now that his stomach actually had something in it, and he’d finally quenched his thirst, his mind seemed to be working properly.  Mostly he just wanted to curl up and sleep for the next decade or so until someone figured out how to knock some order back into the world or someone finally decides to just bomb the place.

 

“Yeah?”  Sawamura looks a little awkward for the first time, unsure as he squints over at Kuroo.

 

“People don’t do that, not now, not in this world.”  Kuroo stretched his legs, cringing as they protested the movement.

 

“I don’t know about that.”  Sawamura looked away, probably not seeing the basement they were in but something farther away, maybe something in his past.  “I saw you needed help, what other option was there?”  He shrugged, like it was that easy.  You see a half naked man tied to a lamp post, surrounding by zombies and human-hunters and obviously the only choice is to go save him.

 

“You could have left me, you risked a lot.”  Sawamura met Kuroo’s eyes, intense and focused and Kuroo swallowed suddenly because he saw a lot, he always had, and he saw how for Sawamura Daichi, there wasn’t any other option.  Sawamura would never walk away from someone who needed help, Kuroo wondered how the hell the man could be alone, or even alive in this world that chewed good people up and spat them out.

 

“Do you have anywhere to go?”  Sawamura asked before handing Kuroo a bundle of fabric.  Kuroo unrolled it to reveal a pair of black joggers and a blue henley, and he almost cried.  “I don’t have any spare shoes.”  Which was a big problem, both of them knew it.

 

“Thank you.”  Kuroo said as he slid on the clothes, his body clenching in protest once again at movement, but it was worth it as the warm fabric covered his battered body.  Sawamura was shorter than him, but wider, so the clothes fit well.  “No, I- there was a group I was part of, we were scavenging, I was on lookout.  They snuck- no, I was just exhausted and hungry and I let them get close.”

 

“I’m sorry.”  Sawamura said, and Kuroo felt like he meant it but he was getting the wrong impression.

 

“They got away, I created a distraction, the trap was probably meant for them.”  Kuroo explained, long fingers picking at the fabric covering his thighs.  “We never really had a destination, we’ve been- safe havens haven’t really been all that safe for us.  We were looking for supplies so we could get away from the city.”  The city had its numerous problems, but so did the country.  They had decided the take their shot at the country in the south.

 

“So you have a direction?”  Sawamura asked, settling back into a seated position.

 

“South.”  Kuroo shrugs, a self-deprecating smirk on his face.  Sawamura nods, looking up.

 

“That’s where I was heading, I was getting out of the city when I saw you.”  Sawamura sighed, rolling his neck until it cracked.  “I had to find a good place for us to hide, that’s why it took me so long to get to you.  We should hide out here for at least a day.”  Too many zombies attracted by the noise and gas, the hunters roaming the streets looking for them.  The basement is crowded and damp and smelly, but Kuroo relaxed against a stack of sagging boxes.

 

“You want me to come with you?”  Kuroo asked because he had to be sure, because he couldn’t get his hopes up.

 

“If you want, I know a place that’s safe if we can get to it.”  Sawamura rolled his shoulders.  Kuroo knew it was stupid to trust someone so quickly, to put all his hope and faith into someone he’d just met, but this was a new world.  Sawamura could have just left the city, travelled and gone south without risking life and limb to rescue a stranger.  He didn’t have to share his rations with him, didn’t have to use precious first aid equipment on him, but he did.  Sawamura did it all unthinkingly, as if there was no other choice, and Kuroo might be a fool for believing him, but he did.

 

“Where is it?”  Kuroo asked, even though his eyes were drooping and his body was demanding rest.

 

“Shizouka.”  Kuroo let out a disgruntled noise.  “I know, it’s going to be a long walk so rest up.  I’ll figure out how to get you some shoes.”  Kuroo curled onto his side.  He had grown use to sleeping on hard surfaces so a basement floor was really nothing, except it was cold and damp, but it still wasn’t the worst place he had slept.  Mostly Kuroo was thankful having someone else take the leadership reigns, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders, and he made a small promise to himself not to make Sawamura shoulder all the responsibility.

 

A day and a half later Kuroo had learned a lot about one Sawamura Daichi.  It’s hard not to learn a lot about another person when you’re stuck in a small enclosed space with them, fearing that any moment a zombie or a hunter will find you and you’ll die in a horrible, gruesome way.  Maybe it was that reason, that need for someone else to know you, to remember you when you ultimately die in the messed up nightmare land the world had become that made them open up in ways they normally wouldn’t have.

 

Sawamura was around 27 years old, it’s hard to keep the days or months or years straight, but he’s about the same age as Kuroo.  He went to high school and college near home because he lived with his grandparents and wanted to remain close to them.  The way he talked about them makes Kuroo believe they are no longer around, he partially hoped they had died of old age before the world went to shit.  He was exactly the Superman Kuroo believed he was at first, except maybe even better because Sawamura is a little introverted, a little cautious and shy and kind of a huge dork who enjoys Kuroo’s sarcastic, sometimes inappropriate sense of humor.

 

Sawamura was an only child, something him and Kuroo have in common.  He played volleyball in high school, another thing they share, and he thought his athletic reflexes have saved his life more than once.  He was kind and warm and deeply scarred, but somehow the horrible things that must have happened to him, that have happened to everyone, have just made him kinder instead of twisting him in horrible ways.

 

Kuroo also learned that the reason he was all the way in Tokyo was to gather much needed medical supplies.  Sawamura was with a small group, and they wanted to try to hit one of the hospitals in Tokyo.  It seemed like pure lunacy to Kuroo, the hospital they were aiming for were practically ground zero, but Sawamura had reasoned it meant most people wouldn’t try to gather the supplies there.  Their group had gotten attacked, split up, and Sawamura had been injured.  He didn’t want his group to risk themselves, so he had told them he had been bitten and they needed to go.

 

“My- the injury, it was bad.  Even if they somehow did manage to get to me-” Sawamura shrugged, head tilted back as he stared up at the dark ceiling.  “There’s no way I could have made it back home.  I turned off the walkie talkie and I guess- I waited to die?  Except I didn’t.”  Sawamura’s brow furrowed, his gaze meeting Kuroo’s for a moment before sliding away and Kuroo was sure there is more to the story, but he let it drop.  

 

“Lucky for me.”  Kuroo said to break the tension.  Sawamura smiles appreciatively.

 

“Lucky for you.”  Sawamura agreed.

 

Sawamura said he had seen a small outdoors store that should have boots, that it was better if he went alone because it was dangerous for Kuroo to be walking around without shoes on.  Everything he said made perfect sense to Kuroo, he agreed but also, his heart clenched tightly in his chest.  He wasn’t not a child anymore, he was well into his 20s and he shouldn’t feel this unearthly need to grab onto Sawamura and beg him not to go, or beg him to take him too.

 

“Here.”  Sawamura was pushing his backpack, full of his supplies and food and everything, into Kuroo’s side.  Kuroo’s fingers twist in the canvas fabric, his brows furrowing.  “Can’t go far without it, right?”  And Kuroo realizes the amount of trust he’s putting into Kuroo, and it was his way of saying he’ll be back.

 

Kuroo waited until Sawamura’s gone before he let himself cry.  He does it a lot, and he doesn’t even give a shit anymore.  He use to hide it, hold it in until he was in the safety of his room or the shower because it wasn’t okay for people to be overly emotional.  Kuroo’s always been an emotional bastard, and he had hidden it for years behind sarcastic smirks and pestering and jokes.  Then he became the leader of his little group of misfits, mostly by default, and he had to put on some stupid ass tough guy role.

 

Kuroo knew he was tough, he didn’t think crying lessened a person in anyway.  Anyone who had survived in this apocalyptic hellhole deserved to be able to cry whenever they damn well choose to.  So Kuroo buried his head against Sawamura’s backpack, resisting the urge to go through it and find out more things about his new companion.

 

What if he had a collection of ears strung together?

 

“There’s no collection of ears.”  Kuroo mumbled to himself, more so to hear something, anything than to really convince himself of anything.

 

Now that Kuroo was alone he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.  He thought about his group, thinned out over the years with a few surprises and newcomers.  There were the two left over from the early days, Kenma and Yaku.  Shy, quiet, observant Kenma and strong, determined, and surly Yaku.  They had lost a lot together, and Kuroo is fiercely glad that Kenma still had Yaku, and the other way around.  Yaku could remind Kenma to eat properly, and Kenma was the only one left that Yaku would actually listen to when he says he needs to take a break.

 

Kuroo hoped Lev, the giant half-Russian mess of a man, isn’t giving those two too many problems.  He caused more issues than he solved, but he also took a knife for Yaku and that sort of action breeds loyalty.  Speaking of loyalty they still have Yamamoto, strong and fierce, willing to do the unspeakable to save others from guilt and shame.

 

Kuroo had just managed to stumble upon Bokuto too.  Their group had been even smaller.  Loud and obnoxious Bokuto, hardened slightly by the horrors he had to face.  Kuroo hadn’t seen him since their college days, before the world went to hell.  There was the dark haired Akaashi, quiet and observant who seemed to know just the right words to pull Bokuto out of one of his moods.  The last was quiet and mature Yukie, who had obviously played a big part in keeping the two men alive.

 

Kuroo did not let himself think about all those he had lost.  Except the more he didn’t think about it, the more his brain forced him too.  His mother, their apartment bloodied and torn apart with no sign of her trying to pack up.  Big, dependable Kai who had faced the worst death, surrounded by zombies and had died alone.  Almost completely silent Fukunaga, who had died of an infection, a smile on his face as he gripped Yamamoto’s hand, before asking him to make sure he didn’t come back as one of those things.  Energetic Inuoka, who had gone off with Shibayama to use the bathroom, whose screams Kuroo still heard in the dead of night.

 

“Kuroo?”  Sawamura’s voice was quiet in the darkness.  Kuroo pushed himself up off the backpack, not realizing when he had fallen asleep but his body ached so it must have been a while.

 

“Shoes?”  Kuroo asked instead of thanking Sawamura for coming back, for not leaving him behind and alone.  Sawamura produced not only a pair of boots that fit well, but also a cameo jacket that was a bit big but was comfortable and more importantly warm.  Kuroo doesn’t know which god to thank for creating Sawamura, let alone putting him in Kuroo’s path, but he silently thanks the ones he knows.

 

“We should rest up tonight, we’ll move out at first light.”  Kuroo makes fun of Sawamura for sounding so military, then asks him if he’s in the military.

 

“No, the place we’re going to is kind of run like the military.”  Sawamura settles next to Kuroo, legs stretched out.  “I know that sounds scary but it’s- it’s good, it’s safe.”  Kuroo wonders if it’s full of people like Sawamura, warm and kind and a little rough around the edges.

 

Kuroo puts on the boots, slowly ties them up as he considers where they are going before ultimately shrugging off any concerns.  He knew his own people were safe, he did all he could for them and he hoped they would come across each other.  Safe Havens have never been too safe for Kuroo but he thought he’d probably follow Sawamura anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Another story that I wrote a while ago and just never got around to posting it, I always thought I'd write more but I never did! I do this far too often.
> 
> http://thatishogwash.tumblr.com/


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